


Absolutely

by MoodyAquarius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: CAS IS COLETTE 2K15, CAS IS DEAN'S COLETTE, Cain and Colette, Cas/Colette parallels, Dean/Cain parallels, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Fluff, I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT IT, Like Immediately, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark of Cain, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, also sam really ships it, gross fluff, it's canon, my fluffy version of what happens after, needed a pick-me-up, okay?, sam just wants destiel to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoodyAquarius/pseuds/MoodyAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THE PARALLELS BETWEEN CAS AND COLETTE AND THIS IS FLUFFY TRASH AND I'M TRASH BUT DAMMIT CAS IS COLETTE IT'S CANOOOONNNNNNNNNN</p><p>sorry it's so fucking short i have no discipline</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deanniker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanniker/gifts).



"What kind of trouble?" Cas squinted his eyes further, taking a step towards Sam, whose back was facing him, a sturdy wall of flannel. When no response was voiced, the angel moved to sit at the other chair in the dinky, plain room, glancing at the coffee Sam was clutching. His mouth twitched, eyes miles away.

"I.. I don't know exactly, but.." He brought a nervous hand to his face, wiping down, dragging the bags under his eyes downward. He completely abandoned the cup of coffee, fidgeting and staring off to nowhere. Cas reached, touching his hand to Sam's arm as if he were trying to gently wake him. Sam flashed a look at Cas, clearing his throat, "The blade is safe, though?"

Cas nodded once, eyes trained between Sam's face and nervous ticks.

"Good..." He nodded to himself, looking up and making actual contact with Cas' face, "That's good, Cas, thank you." Cas felt like shrugging but remained stiff, blinking and nodding a bit. Sam brought his cup to his lips, taking a sip, suddenly engrossed in thought. Cas stayed silent so as not to disrupt his thinking, attention wandering off toward where Dean had exited. A few minutes passed in heavy silence.

Sam cleared his throat, making a face, "I... Cas, have you thought about why Dean gave you the blade? I mean... The plan was.. Give it to Crowley because it's the most secure there.. With him, but.." Sam's lips quirked, eyes studying Cas', "But he gave it to you."

Cas narrowed his eyes at him, "And?"

"Well, I mean.. It's interesting isn't it?" A hint of a smile played around the younger Winchester's lips. Cas made a face, cocking his head at Sam, trying to follow his thought pattern.

"I'm not sure I'm following..."

Sam placed a hand over his mouth, as if scrubbing. He met Cas' confused expression. There was no way to ease into it, Sam simply said it, "Cas, have you considered the fact that you are the closest thing Dean has to a 'Colette'?" He stared at Cas, point blank.

Castiel's face shifted, changing from stoic confusion to processing, to something flustered and animated. He opened his mouth to reply, coming up with nothing. He felt his face growing warmer. Sam waited. Cas cleared his throat, choking out, "Colette?" As if he didn't understand.

"Yes, like the one person in the universe who got Cain to stop his murder spree." Sam was much more alive than before, "I mean... It's worth thinking about, isn't it?"

"I suppose.. But, Dean doesn't..."

Sam finished his thought, "Are you sure?" He raised an eyebrow.

Cas shot up from the chair, flustered and hot all of a sudden, feeling claustrophobic in his coat. He threw a glance at the hallway Dean had passed through earlier, remembering that lingering pat on his back, that rough touch of encouragement. He exhaled sharply, trying to come up with an excuse to leave.

"Cas, you alright?" Sam stood slowly from his spot.

"Yes, fine, excuse me." Without another word he bolted away from Sam, casting a glance down that dim hallway, then immediately fled. Sam wandered the bunker, calling out for him for a while before realizing he must have flew away, obviously. He was still getting used to Cas' regained grace.

Dean entered the hallway from the sound of the shouting, "What's up?"

Sam stumbled, “N-nothing, nothing, Dean.”

Dean gave his brother a grumpy, groggy stare, “Then shut up would ya? Trying to sleep here.” Sam opened his mouth then closed it, like a fish gaping ashore. He rolled his eyes and watched Dean stomp back to his room.

Life resumed as usual, they began hunting again after a brief period of Dean regaining his strength. Sam was vigilant and cautious of nearly everything, watching Dean's every move. Sam knew it drove him crazy, and hell it drove him crazy too having to babysit and watch Dean's every move. Any hint of action or potential violence gave Sam severe anxiety.

Soap combined with dried blood, creating a foamy pink mess in the sink. Dean scrubbed his hands free of anything remotely red, rubbing his skin raw. He cranked the sink off, drying his hands and wandering around for the lotion. "Sammy, where's that coconut oil crap?" Sam dipped around the doorway,

"Uh, if it's crap then why do you need it?" He quipped with an attempt at a grin.

Dean rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean, shut up. Where is it?"

"Probably in the fridge, I made eggs with it today."

Dean made a face but stomped off toward the kitchen, muttering, "Butter isn't toxic, y'know." He swung the fridge door open, grabbing the jar of oil and dousing his hands, eyes fluttering from the feel of the smooth oil on his calloused, cracked hands. He grabbed a cold beer and kicked the fridge shut, strolling into the living room to plop on the couch and maybe take a nap, but of course little brother Sammy wouldn’t allow that so easily.

“Dean,” The older Winchester’s lips broke from the cool rim of his beer with a deep sigh. His eyes met Sam’s as the mammoth of a brother he had blocked the TV. Sam shuffled his feet, carrying on, “Have you talked to Cas lately?” He kept his tone very labored and controlled.

Dean’s eyebrows scrunched on his forehead, taking a sip of beer and muttering, “No, not recently, why?” He motioned Sam out of his way, clicking the TV to life and scrolling through his recorded episodes of Breaking Bad. Sam stayed standing by the coffee table, hands on his hips, shrugging,

“No reason, just wondering.” Before Dean had a chance to question Sam’s behavior, he was gone. Sam’s sudden, random mention of Cas made Dean pause a moment and think it over, swishing beer around in his mouth. He looked out in the direction Sam had headed, wondering what that was about, should he have talked to Cas? He tried to shrug it off and pressed play on the oldest episode in the DVR.

In the height of a yelling match between Jesse and Walt, Dean dozed off to sleep, the empty beer in his hand slipping from his fingers, rolling down to rest in his lap. Sam walked past to reach the kitchen and stopped to turn the lights off for Dean, leaving a small lamp on just in case. He started back to the library with his cup of ramen, but stopped again, setting it down and throwing a blanket over Dean’s sleeping form. He smiled to himself, enjoying the little moments when he could take care of Dean, instead of the other way around. He reached and turned the TV off, picking his soup back up and walking out, to his room instead because sleep was sounding pretty appealing. He yawned and muttered, “‘Night, Dean.”

Dean awoke several hours later, tucked neatly into the couch, blanket tight around his body and legs stretched out far in a way he hadn’t remembered. He blinked, adjusting to the dark, mind fighting to put the pieces together and come to full consciousness. From a dim lamp glowing off in the corner of the room, he saw a movement. He flinched, jumping out of where he was lying.

A soft voice rumbled, “Sorry.” Moving into the light, came the owner of that voice. Dean moved a hand to his chest as if to still his startled heart, panting slightly,

“Jesus, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, Dean… old habits.” Cas suddenly sounded very human, shrugging and hiding his gaze away from Dean’s eyes. He moved to sit on the coffee table directly in front of the couch, face close enough that Dean could make out an expression of concern. “Did you sleep well?”

“What time is it?”

Cas answered immediately, without breaking eye contact, “11:39 pm.”

“O-okay. Not creepy..” Dean chuckled, sitting up and yawning, stretching his arms out, “Man, I didn’t even know I fell asleep, I was watching my show.” He ran a hand through his hair, then down to rub at his eyes, getting rid of any sleep that may have been hanging around. He cocked an eyebrow at Cas, now being able to see him much clearer, “What brought you here?”

It was a simple question, yet the angel looked like he’d just been caught rummaging through some chick’s underwear drawer. Dean heard his chest quiver with an uneasy intake of air, “I’ve been thinking… about something.. Sam said.”

“Sam?” Dean yawned again, popping his ears to be sure he’d heard that right.

“Yes. Dean, could we continue this conversation somewhere…” He mused, almost smiling, “Better lit?” Dean didn’t think to question why Cas needed better lighting, being an almighty celestial being and all, he could probably see in twenty different wavelengths on multiple universal levels or some shit. Yet, he stood and moved toward the hallway for Dean to follow. In his pliant sleep-state, he just got up and did. He led them to Dean’s bedroom, flipping the light switch on and sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed.

Dean squinted at the light but joined him, “Good enough for you?”

Cas nodded once, continuing in that serious tone of his, “Sam mentioned something to me… and.. I can’t quite stop thinking about it.” His face grew red, hands fidgeting with the buttons on his coat, Dean narrowed his eyes. Was Cas nervous? In all the years he’d known him he’d never seen the angel be nervous about anything, not even about throwing a molotov at the literal devil. He did everything with full conviction, without a second thought, but for some reason whatever Sam had said had him twisting and tripping over himself like a teenager trying to ask someone to prom.

Dean swallowed, “What did he say?” A million possibilities began running through his mind. Sam could have spilled a plethora of Dean-secrets to Cas, but why would he? What was his motivation? Oh god, if… Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. What if Sam had spilled the beans about Dean accidentally admitting to liking Cas. It had happened on accident, on the road, Sam was saying something about Cas, going on and on and Dean had just let it slip, muttering out something along the lines of, “yeah, I love that guy” and Sam just refused to let it slide as ‘friendly love’. Dean’s heart began to pound in his ears, he stared deep at Cas’ shifting blue eyes.

Why was he so damn nervous? If Sam had told him, he’d either be happy or… oh god, what if Cas didn’t feel the same? What if this was a big, soft let down, Cas was trying to turn him down easy? Is that why he was so damn twitchy and avoiding his eyes? He was afraid to hurt Dean’s feelings? He was going to be sick. Cas licked his lips, “He.. said something about Cain..”

“Cain?” Dean felt himself squirm in relief, but also confusion.

“Yes. About Cain.. and how the only person who was able to stop him was…”

“Colette.” He interrupted, feeling his heart skip around strangely. Dammit Sam, if he could ever just keep his big stupid mouth shut. He ran a hand through his hair, feigning a cavalier attitude, attempting to play it off, “Yeah, so? What about it?”

The look in Cas’ deep eyes made Dean feel like garbage. The angel looked at him with such lost hope, swallowing and muttering softly, “Sam… nevermind. It.. it was.. wrong. He was wrong.” He began shaking his head, moving to stand. Dean watched Cas’ face as he tried to hide the shattering of his heart and hopes. Dean jumped,

“Cas, wait.” He caught a handful of tan fabric in his fist, flipping Cas around, away from the door and instead pressing his back into it, holding him in place, “What did Sam suggest?” At this point he was just begging Cas to say it, he wanted to hear it for himself, he wanted to hear Cas’ low, crackly voice say it. He wanted that sweet nectar to fall from Cas’ words of ‘ _Sam suggested that I’m your Colette, that you love me, and I love you too, I’ve always loved you_ ’ and then just maybe everything would be fine.

Cas’ eyes scanned Dean’s face, falling from his eyes, to lovely cheekbones, to stubble, to plump lips. Dean considered himself a strong man, but the look on Cas’ sweet, confused face was too much for him. He leaned forward slowly, gradually, dipping down to touch his forehead to Cas’, letting his eyes shut slowly and evenly, fingers moving from fabric to the warm skin of the angel’s neck. Cas’ breathing shuddered, making him shake and sputter out confused little broken questions, like _“Dean, what are you--?” “Dean, I--?” “Dean, this-”_ before jolting forward and closing the space between their lips. Dean made a happy, surprised noise, pushing Cas harder against the door, all hips and strong hands.

Cas reached to cling at anything he could grab, so long as it was Dean. His fingers easily found purchase around the hunter’s warm neck, nails making small crescent shaped markings in his desperate hold. He followed Dean’s lead, moving his lips around his, learning to fit the shape, gasping and fighting to hold on, like clutching for a single board of wood among the ocean. Cas knew he was done for and he’d happily sink so long as Dean would be there waiting at the bottom.

It was Dean who broke the kiss with a pant, stroking a circle around Cas’ flushed hot cheek, “I think Sam may have a point.” Cas then realized that Dean had known and he lunged to hit him, to get revenge for the torture Dean had inflicted upon him, but instead he lunged and met lips with neck, kissing desperately at anything and everything Dean. Dean huffed out a light chuckle, eyes fluttering, “Ca-as, woa-hey, mmm.” He wandered backward.

The sockets of the back of his knees found the bed and soon Cas pushed him over, toppling, legs over torso, mouth buried warm and sucking. Dean hid his joy, his absolute earth-shattering joy that Cas felt the same by digging his face into a warm shoulder, tugging his warm angel closer. Cas broke from his neck, meeting his lips and giving Dean the most sensual, slow and heartfelt kiss of his life, breaking softly and whispering so no one else in the entire universe could listen in on this moment that was theirs and theirs only, “Dean,”

“Yes?”

“I-”

“I love you too.” Dean broke into a shit-eating grin.

Cas positively exploded with happiness, but grumbled, “Must you always be so obnoxious?”

“Absolutely.”

Cas couldn’t argue with that type of sound logic. After so many years of pining and longing just to kiss Dean’s snarky, sarcastic, rude lips he couldn’t help but feel love for every word that passed out of them. He stared down at this fantastic human beneath him, all smiles and crinkly skin around his gorgeous, shining eyes. He’d follow him to the end, he’d be his Colette, he’d die for him, a million times over and do it all with a smile because for a second in time he heard Dean Winchester say out loud that he loved him. And everything else paled in comparison.


End file.
